me: where's your phone book? my dad: what's it to you? me: i need it my dad: for what? me: i need to make some fuckin phone calls my dad: all right! it's in the drawer me: (gets up and goes in the other room) my dad: where are you going? me: i'm going in the other room. i don't want you listening in on my shit. my dad: (follows me) me: get out of here, i'm fuckin doing things! my dad: yeah well i'm smoking a cigarette me: i think i'm getting sick my dad: you're not getting sick you drama queen me: yes i am i'm all fuckin sweaty my dad: it's hot out! me: no it's not my dad: well it's fuckin humid me: hardly my dad: it's humid. and you're wearing a sweater, why the hell are you wearing a sweater? me: i'm trying to make PHONE CALLS here do you need to be bothering me? my dad: oh excuse me me: (on the phone) hi daryl how are you? hahah i know! i haven't talked to you in so long my dad: (mocking) hahha i haven't talked to you in so long me: (mouthing to him) FUCK YOU (finishes up phone call) (back to dad) you know you're an asshole my dad: yeah well you're a bimbo and i don't know how your fiance puts up with you me: he loves me my dad: yeah he loves your blow jobs me: i'm going upstairs, don't bother me my dad: don't worry i won't
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